Flame haired girl peeps from the forest
with her hazel eyes, warm in her dark orange dress.
Amber glimmers secretly
from her ears and throat.
Leaves crown her:
gold and yellow, jasper, topaz and garnet.
She looks through misty skies at empty fields,
the crops gathered, the soil dozing.
Berries like fat beads glisten in hedgerows,
rowan and hawthorn, pyracantha
and gorse and heather range like flame
across the moorlands.
The sky darkens earlier and earlier.
Soon, all will be dark, and cold and lonely for the sun.
But for now,
the Spirit of Autumn watches us,
crowned in leaves.
Words and photograph copyright 2016 by Paula Harmon.
All rights belong to the author
and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission
My lecture was so dull I bored myself, tailing off down an alley of inconsequence to the dead end of momentary silence until, with rising excitement, I found the side alley of potential controversy and entered it with brief anticipation of provoking interest; the eyes of the older members of the assembled teenagers coming back to life for the few seconds it took for my stress addled brain to note the teachers’ anxious tension as they braced for any risk my words might pose, whereupon I stepped off a metaphorical pavement into the path of an oncoming bus – destination: failure.
Copyright 2016 by Paula Harmon. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission
From a prompt from Thin Spiral Notebook: a story in 100 words in 1 sentence.